A L I E N S

Coldplay.

 

I’m not partial to the word “luck.” It feels very impersonal and overly random. If you would’ve asked me how I was doing four or five months ago, I would’ve probably said, “Rock bottom has done arrived,” or even more probably, “Whiskey. Bring me whiskey bitch…….please,” or we would’ve done a puff puff pass kind of thing. I would’ve been terrible company and bitched about not being hungover, not having enough binge food, and North Korea’s bullshit. But looking back now, who knew #blessed would suddenly step up and have my back.

I think Daiz and I have now moved like seven times in the past year. I honestly feel like a mindless hobo, going from place to place. And I’m sure she’s not a fan either. We got the fuck out of Clintonville, and moved our pathetic asses to Grove City since my boss/good friend said I could crash with his family until I get back up on my feet. However long that may be. Because I was obviously a trainwreck at that point. And I couldn’t be without adult supervision. It took about a good month to stop watching stupid movies and bawling my eyes out and drinking heavy things. And I meant like everyday, coming home after work, immediately changing into sweatpants, watching Reese Witherspoon shit, finishing a bottle of whatever by myself, and going to sleep at like 4 a.m.

My job was probably my first saving grace – there wasn’t time to think about ANYTHING, between all the fractions and phonics and death fights. Plus my kids, despite still being crazy as all fuck, gave me so many feels. “Ms. Michelle, your hair looks shitty today, and you need to fix your clothes, but I still love your heart.” Dafuq. “Listen Ms. Michelle, I won’t beat this shithead up today because you don’t need that. Hear that biiiitch, consider yourself blessed for not getting punched the fuck out!” Then my second saving grace, and my most surprising one, was meeting new people and getting included into a tangible family. Whether it was the people I worked with, or meeting someone while out or about, or even fucking Bumble BFF, we all grew ridiculously, stupid close.

Also. Being out here in Gahanna is solid. I enjoy living with a coworker/best friend in a condo that overlooks a pool and stupid amounts of baby trees. Daiz has made friends with her dogs and cats (still, fuck cats man, little demon spawns…) Since school has been out for the summer, I’ve picked up bartender shifts at local place that has more regulars than a damn Walmart superstore. I love it – we talk about Fox News, weed, and failed marriages. “What do you mean what happened. I was shipped off to Vietnam and another dick fell into her vagina, then out popped not my baby.” Oh, and in return, I get plenty of advice on my love life. “You’re young as fuck. I have new T-shirts older than you. Be impulsive, you fucktard.” Assholes. Obviously my unladylike mouth thrives there.

As far as my future plans go, I’m taking it in baby steps. Sort of. I’m pretty warmed up to the idea that anything could happen, alongside some insanely influential factors that I would’ve never seen coming. Like, ever. In an amazing kind of way.

Anyway. All that I can say at the moment is that Daiz has more than one dog pillow and I’m emotionally in a happy place. See. #blessed (;

 

whoa

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